Memory Twilight
by lleuad-glas
Summary: After the Divorce, both Charles and Erik grow more and more melancholy, and Hank and Raven are forced to take reconciliation into their own hands. Songfic, slash. Rated for Raven's lack of subtlety and strong implication.


**A/N:** So the XMFC obsession came on about the same time as the Owl City one... and I think the two got together and gave birth to a strange plot bunny. Which promptly jumped on me and didn't let go until I wrote this. And of course, me being me, it's also a fix-it. Enjoy.

Reviews are love :)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own X-Men (because if I did Charles would be walking and Erik wouldn't have left) or Vanilla Twilight (good thing, too-I couldn't have written it half so well)

* * *

_**The stars lean down to kiss you**_  
_**And I lie awake and miss you**_  
_**Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere**_

Charles couldn't sleep. It wasn't uncommon for him, but usually it was because of the lingering ache at the base of his spine, not _this_. This was at once so much better and infinitely worse. It had been months of silence on Erik's end ever since he broke Emma out, not a word or even a hint of a movement... The telepath had used his recovery time to pour himself into turning 1407 Graymalkin Lane into a school to avoid thinking too much. Now that it was nearly done Hank had plugged him back into Cerebro to find students.

And he had-the program had worked like a charm. Just for a moment though, he had brushed against a mind that was so beautifully familiar that he had gasped in relief. His darling sister was alive and well, only just outside his natural range. But that was as far as his joy could extend. She felt him touch, and alarm thrilled through her, and then suddenly that awful void came into being next to her. He moved on quickly, trying not to let her feel the spike of pain Erik's action had caused.

Now, Charles lay awake in bed, flat on his back because it was now too difficult to roll over onto his side like he had before. The cold starlight fell in through the window and there was a painful twinge in his heart. These were the same stars that Erik was seeing, camped with his own band of mutants. These were the same stars that kissed his sleeping skin like Charles never would again.

His breath caught in his throat. Holding his tears back didn't seem to matter anymore. He knew when he fell in love with Erik in the first place that it couldn't last. But he never expected it to hurt this much to have him torn out of his life, taking Raven with him, to be shut out of his love's mind. The telepath felt his broken heart twist sharply in his chest as he looked out the window, and he wasn't sure he would ever heal.

_**'Cause I'll doze off safe and soundly**_  
_**But I'll miss your arms around me**_  
_**I'd send a postcard to you dear**_  
_**'Cause I wish you were here**_

The stars were fiercely bright above the treetops as Erik tossed and turned, trying to sleep. He had learned to be able to sleep almost anywhere while he was hunting Shaw, but even that skill seemed to elude him now. One of the others was keeping guard, and he had been laying low, so there was no real danger of being attacked tonight. Charles' absence was almost tangible, a patch of air that was colder than the rest where the telepath's warm body ought to be. The cold extended to where their legs should be tangled, over his side where the other's arm should be draped lazily.

Ignoring the twitch of his heart, he thought back to that morning. Rav-Mystique missed her brother acutely, and she continued to dream of him. Last night's dream had been more painful than usual, and she had woken up and shifted into him, just to stare in the mirror and watch those too-blue eyes hold back tears. Seeing the familiar shape there hurt in ways Erik didn't want to admit to himself, and he hadn't been able to keep from pulling her to him hard-releasing her when she kissed too gently, too tentative, without the half-smirk on those lips.

Erik knew surer than ever that he wanted Charles with him. Why, why had the telepath chosen to say those words? _I am sorry, my friend, but we do not. _The forest was beautiful but it could never to compare to the carefully decorated house in Westchester, the warm feelings Charles projected without realizing it. Just as he had been thinking that Mystique had given a surprised but happy call of _'Charles!'_ as she unconsciously flicked back to the blond form she had kept so long with her brother.

He had put the helmet on as soon as the realization clicked into place, keeping his dear friend-_his love_, his traitorous heart whispered-out of the places that should be only his. Yet this argument felt frail in a way it never had before. _No more hiding_, the words came back to him that night as he tried to sleep. Erik rolled over one last time, wishing they had resolved their debate, finished that last game of chess, stayed together to fight for their cause.

Mystique seemed to sense his inability to sleep and came to lay next to him, taking a shape that was firmer, taller, warmer. He put his arms around the body that wasn't Charles', closing his eyes and wishing the telepath was really there.

_**I'll watch the night turn light blue**_  
_**But it's not the same without you**_  
_**Because it takes two to whisper quietly**_

When Charles awoke the morning of the first day of school, he quietly sent a happy thought to the small girl named Ororo, watching as the early fog cleared away from the dark sky like it had been wiped away. He didn't, strictly speaking, have to be awake yet, but all those months ago he had gotten used to waking up when it was still dark, because either would be getting up with Erik, or Erik would find creative ways of making him. Extremely pleasant way that he refused to think of now, because it would only hurt more.

He climbed into his chair and then rolled out onto the balcony, staring out at the sky and remembering the many times he had done just that with his love. They had an unspoken rule to leave their debates at the bedroom door. Idle nothings and soft laughter were the main components of their morning whisperings.

Charles tamped down the first stirrings of pain and turned to roll downstairs, studiously ignoring the chessboard in the next room that was still set in the middle of their last game, the one they had interrupted in favor of having a happy memory to carry to Cuba. He hadn't had the heart to do any more than dust it, leaving one of the knights off center in its square where the metalkinetic had been about to move it to put the white king in check. If he were there Erik would probably comment on the excessive sentimentality of the gesture, but Charles would have taken any number of snide comments just to hear his voice again.

_**The silence isn't so bad**_  
_**'Til I look at my hands and feel sad**_  
_**'Cause the spaces between my fingers**_  
_**Are right where yours fit perfectly**_

They've found a safe house, so for the first time in quite a while Erik was privy to a real morning with coffee-absently he thought Charles would have tea-and a newspaper. The headline wasn't important to him-rather, he skimmed until he found the one entitled "Xavier's School Open This Week". The article was short and to the point, and made no mention of mutants-how could it? Mutants were still a closely guarded secret in most respects. What tore him up was the picture that came with it.

The picture was black and white, but the expression on Charles' face was so... _Charles_ that he could nearly see the blue of his eyes and the red of his lips, feel the dark wave of his hair. Charles was smiling in the way that Erik knew from experience usually accompanied a low-level projection of '_You can trust me, I'm harmless.' _His eyes traveled down the familiar body clad in a well-tailored suit to the wheelchair that the metalkinetic took an instant dislike to. Bile rose in his throat. It's his fault that Charles could no longer stand.

The telepath's fingers rested almost daintily on his knee, curled in his typical mind-reading gesture, but turned slightly, so that to Erik who knew him so well he might as well have been saying out loud '_I want to feel your mind again_', as if he'd known Erik would see that picture. That had only happened three times in all of their time together-Charles held back at the metalkinetic's request, and had only entered when he pulled Erik out of the water, and when he guided him to Shaw.

The third time was very private, one night when they were alone together. Charles had explained, in words that seemed difficult to reach for, that Erik's mind was very _comfortable_ and that he would appreciate being able to feel it when it wasn't overcome with rage. He had taken some persuading, eventually giving in when the telepath said in a low voice in his ear that he would '_make it worth his while'_. What he hadn't expected was for the younger man to make it worth his while _during_ the while-literally finding the pleasure centers of his brain and stroking them mercilessly.

His face flushed slightly at the memory as he let the paper slip from his fingers. He couldn't let Charles into his mind, especially not now that they were-he would not say enemies. Rivals, perhaps. Rivals, but still friends. He hoped. Being in contact with another mind was an experience impossible to describe, and it made him much more conscious of his own. There were gaps, for lack of a better term, spaces where Charles fit in perfectly, that felt too empty now. Their minds slotted together just as flush as their bodies. Even their fingers seemed designed to lace together.

But those spaces would never be filled again, now that Charles was settled in Westchester with a school to run-a _school_, he thought incredulously, but he would never have expected less from his-his love. He could admit that, at least to himself. The next mission was certain, then-make sure that no one who knew Charles was running a mutant school could be allowed to tell anyone. They may not be on exactly the same side anymore, but Erik would let no one near them with ill intent. It was the least he could do.

_**I'll find repose in new ways**_  
_**Though I haven't slept in two days**_  
_**'Cause cold nostalgia chills me to the bone**_

Sleeplessness was becoming increasingly common for Charles, to the point where Hank was practically begging to prescribe him something for insomnia. Tonight he was almost tempted to take him up on the offer. It had been far too long since he had slept properly. The chess set was still set up in his study, the pieces hovering over their next moves, evenly matched. Jean had asked why no one ever came to finish the game, and he had stuttered out a deflection before shoring up his shields to allow himself a minute to shatter. Even the children were realizing that he was missing someone.

Everywhere were little reminders of Erik and Raven-his sister had left her necklace in his bathroom, and the satellite dish was still facing the house. And of course, their bedrooms, still in the same state they had left them-Raven's messy and hastily cleaned, Erik's almost empty because of the limited number of times it had actually been used. Several times he had caught himself next to his sister's room to kiss her goodnight like he always had, only to have his breath catch in his throat as his heart went cold.

Charles forgave them for everything in a heartbeat. Raven had once said that he was the kind of person that forgave not because he felt like he had to or because he wanted to, but because it honestly didn't occur to him _not _to. Forgiving was his natural response to most anyone that hurt him. Punishment was different, and non-negotiable, but he did not do it with anger-rather because he must. So it had been with Kurt and Cain Marko, and so it had been with Moira McTaggert-the first two for hurting Raven and the latter for trying to hurt Erik. He protected his own.

But they weren't his own anymore, were they? They had left him bleeding and paralyzed on a beach in Cuba. _No_, he thought adamantly. He had driven them away himself. He had chosen his ideas over Erik, and he had been thoroughly reprehensible towards Raven when she was clearly insecure and in love with him.

He had known about that for a while, no matter how oblivious he acted, but labored under the delusion that Hank-clever, insecure, conforming Hank-might distract her. The blue-furred mutant had it worked out in his mind that his first words upon seeing Raven again were going to be _I take it back_. Because Raven was beautiful, she always had been. Charles had sorted through his pictures to find all those of her in her blue form, putting those up along with the blonde ones even when they continually reminded him of his failure.

_**But drenched in vanilla twilight**_  
_**I'll sit on the front porch all night**_  
_**Waist deep in thought because**_  
_**When I think of you I don't feel so alone**_

It was lonely, being on the run, staying in contact with no one. Erik got so used to staying in the woods and wild places that even when they had a house to stay in he would spend most of his time sitting outside. This particular time he was resting on the edge of the porch, looking out at the water. The sun was descending slowly over the ocean, bathing the world in its dying glow.

Failure was always bitter to the metalkinetic, but it was never like this. Charles had been kidnapped for promoting mutant rights-not even for the first time-and Erik had been so busy trying to silence some human supremacist that he hadn't been able to stop it. The X-Men had been the ones to recover their leader, leaving Erik with a twinge in his heart that he hadn't done what he should have. Mystique insisted that it wasn't his fault, and that Charles wouldn't think so either, but that didn't make it hurt less.

Emma had even offered to remove his memories of loving Charles, so that he could be more dedicated to their cause, but that just proved to him how little she understood him. He _was_ dedicated, 100%, and that included protecting Charles the way he would any other mutant, but if he forgot how much he could love, something told him it would only make him lonelier than ever.

His nightmares were all of bullets and coins and Charles screaming, his dreams were all of chess and soft touches and _You're not alone_. And somehow, when he remembered the way Charles said it, it still felt true.

_**I don't feel so alone**_

Charles was tempted to look with Cerebro again, just to feel Erik's mind against his again for a second. But he couldn't, and even if he could he wouldn't invade his privacy like that. All he could do was think of his love and pray that he was still alive since the last time he had been in the papers. He remembered saying, a lifetime ago _You're not alone_, and he knew it would have to be enough now.

_**I don't feel so alone**_

Overcome with loneliness, Mystique became Raven again, a scared young girl confused and in love instead of a strong fighter and Magneto's right hand. She walked into Hank's office, completely blue and in full view of everyone else who worked there.

"Help them?" she asked, knowing he would understand.

"Absolutely," he replied.

_**As many times as I blink**_  
_**I'll think of you tonight**_

Erik was getting better at hiding his loneliness. No one even seemed to notice it except Myst-Raven, and she kept her private thoughts to herself. Only she knew that his occasional hard, slow blinks were forcing tears back. _Not much longer,_ she wished she could tell him, _not much longer now._

_**I'll think of you tonight**_

Everyone loved Charles, and Charles loved everyone. The teachers were his friends and the students were his children, and even the politicians didn't seem to mind him. Only Hank could see that he was just finding another outlet for an excess of feeling-pouring it into compassion and care for everyone he came into contact with. _Almost done,_he kept trying not to think.

_**When violet eyes get brighter**_  
_**And heavy wings grow lighter**_  
_**I'll taste the sky and feel alive again**_

And then, even sooner than he had predicted, Hank was done. From a small, carefully constructed cage on the roof he released a bird, a homing pigeon. It carried no message save what would be obvious to the recipient-an extremely obvious mutation that caused its eyes to be brilliant amethyst rather than typical orange. She flew up and away from the rooftop, seeking the place she called home.

The ocean sky faded to blood and then ink and the pigeon landed in a lonely fir tree. When ink became rosewater she took off again, nipping insects from the sky as she went. Eventually she arrived, landing in a soft-lined nest. Familiar golden eyes met with her violet ones, and then widened in surprise and joy.

Raven became Charles for the last time, kissed Erik goodbye as he slept, and then went with Azazel to the house in Westchester. It didn't take much on her part to sneak Hank's serum into Cerebro, and when she was done they embraced and prepared to forget everything.

_**And I'll forget the world that I knew**_  
_**But I swear I won't forget you**_  
_**Oh if my voice could reach back through the past**_  
_**I'd whisper in your ear**_

There was something in Hank's mind that he was desperately trying to keep from him, Charles had realized some time ago. It had worried him some, but then quite suddenly it was changed to peace and expectation. The feeling increased as he entered Cerebro, but he ignored it, thinking he was just paying more attention than was polite. He didn't notice the change until the helmet rested gently on his head-he was so much more _powerful_ now that he gasped and gripped the arms of his chair as he had the first time his reach had been expanded. But now, it wasn't just the whole planet he was touching, he realized.

An errant memory crossed his mind, and when he focused on it he could suddenly feel all the thoughts that had been around him at that time-what had Hank _done_? And then he felt them there as well, Hank and Raven waiting with bated breath on the edge of his bed, waiting to forget all the pain they had gone through. Charles' sister's memory-thoughts whispered of plans and intents, and then he knew what they wanted him to do.

With his reach extended even into memories, he reached back to that beach in Cuba, his mind easily bypassing that awful helmet now. He only needed to say one thing at the right moment.

_**Oh darling I wish you were here**_

Charles stumbled, gasping, out of the side of the plane, pushing a migraine to the back of his head as he watched Erik lowering Shaw's corpse to the ground. The metalkinetic left the body there like it was no more significant to him than so much stone and sprinted across the beach to Charles. The telepath was rubbing his forehead in an effort to wipe away an injury that was never really there.

"You were in my head!" he said with a shocked expression. Then, looking more closely at the blank expression of abject pain Charles' wore, he added "Are you alright?"

"I... I was holding Shaw, and then you..." he stopped and drew a shuddering breath, "I thought I was going to _break_... and then... _I _was there..." The words stumbled out awkwardly.

"What do you mean, you were there?" he gripped the telepath's shoulders to steady him as he tried to make sense of the expression in his too-blue eyes.

"It _felt_ like me... it wanted me to-to say something-i wasn't going to... but it was stronger, too strong... I think the _world_ broke," he said, eyes still vacant.

"Charles, you're not making sense," Erik began, trying to get the telepath to meet his eyes. "Charles! Come on, you're still in there, I can see it!" Finally the younger lifted his eyes, looking not quite _at_ him-rather, as though there were something horrifying just behind his head. Trembling fingers moved to the edges of the helmet. Erik tensed, but allowed his friend to remove it.

The helmet-the void, the hole in the world-dropped to the sand with a dull _thunk_. Charles' traumatized mind surged instantly into Erik's, but what he was seeking even he couldn't have told. He stayed there for only a minute before reluctantly withdrawing, shivering with the effort of it.

"I got through..." he murmured.

"How _did_ you get through? You couldn't before. What did you mean?"

"Not-me thought is isn't anymore..." was the last thing he said before collapsing against Erik's chest.

"Raven! Has he done this before?" he called almost desperately to the telepath's sister, who still looked like she was in shock.

"Only once, right after he... saved me... There were too many people, too much-he needs a hospital, he'll be out for a few days at least," she replied. After that the metalkinetic turned into a blur of fury and desperation, immediately calling the teleporter and asking him to take them to a hospital-in a voice so tightly controlled that the Russian seemed to wilt under his gaze before obeying.

For three weeks Charles was in that hospital bed, too-pale against the white sheets. Erik never left his side. The others cycled through continually-Raven and Hank there almost as much as he, and the others taking shifts. Most of the time they were quiet, but Hank was currently finding an outlet for his unused brain power-figuring out what happened to Charles.

"... got through the helmet, so he must have been massively powerful, because even with Cerebro he couldn't have done that before. What could have caused the power spike?" The blue mutant was talking in a low voice, mostly to himself as he puzzled out the situation. "Could it have been another telepath? He said it felt like him, so maybe he just meant that it was another mind that could reach out like he can. Would that even work, though, for the two of them to work together?"  
Hank was rambling and he knew it, but Erik didn't fault him for it. It was a coping measure. Maybe a few weeks ago he would have snapped at him to shut up, but at this point it didn't seem to matter. In any case, there was a possibility he could stumble on the truth by blind chance.

"... then why did he reach for Erik, if he was strong enough to stop everyone at once? What did he say to you, anyway?" The tone of his voice shot up suddenly, and the metalkinetic looked away from Charles' sleeping form for the first time in hours.

"What?"

"I said, what did he say to you? Through the helmet, I mean. We all heard him after." Seemingly with great effort the furry mutant shut his mouth, waiting for an answer instead of rambling further.

"It was more of a feeling than words... I wish you were here."

"What could that mean? You _were_ there," he asks in return, beginning to mumble to himself again. At his side, Raven brightened suddenly with a mischievous grin.

"That wasn't all he said, was it?" she asked, looking at Erik pointedly.

"How would you know?" he said tersely, eyes back on Charles.

"Because he calls you darling in his head. Unless there's someone else he's smitten with enough to project loudly when-"

"Yes, fine, now shut up!" He tried-and probably failed-to keep the flush of color from his face.

"Wait a second-" Hank was brought suddenly out of his musings. "You-and the professor-you were-"

"Absolutely, I think Charles has been in love with him since Miami, but I don't think they had sex until the road trip-" Raven cheerfully began dishing out every detail in the book, rapidly giving Hank a dark purple blush.

"_Mein gott_..." Erik's head dropped into his hands. But she isn't even close to done.

"Oh and by the way, I think Charles _really_ likes it when you speak German..." At that point he wanted to die, just to avoid the embarrassment.

"Come on, darling, it's not _that_ bad," a familiar British accent responded teasingly to his thought, making the whole conversation stop short.

"Charles!" Raven squealed, flickering through six forms involuntarily before jumping on her brother to give him a hug.

"I love you too!" he gasped before she finally relented. "Now can we go home?"

"Are you sure you're not just going to pass out on us again?" Erik asked with concern.

"Quite certain! That was only a one-time thing, I can promise you that."

"So you know what happened?" Hank was suddenly interested again.

"For the most part, yes, I'll explain later." _Now, darling, would you like to make my sister blush? _Erik heard in his head.

He thought back, _I don't think she'd be the one blushing, _but leaned in to kiss the telepath gently. This plan was instantly foiled as Charles twisted his fingers in Erik's hair and drew him closer, lips parting slightly. The younger man opened one eye just far enough to glance at Raven, projecting the image to the other.

_I told you she'd blush_, he thought with a smirk. The shapeshifter had gone as red as Azazel.

_I'm sorry. _Erik sobered suddenly, drawing back ever so slightly. _Are you okay? Are... are we okay?_

_Better than okay. _He pulled the metalkinetic close again. _I love you._

_I love you too._


End file.
